


He Changed Everything

by CQueen



Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Human Experimentation, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-05-12 15:10:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5670376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CQueen/pseuds/CQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six years after the events of X men First Class, Charles finds out that mutant DNA samples, including his own, were stolen by  the CIA and used in an attempt to create new mutants from the womb who would grow up under the CIA's complete control.  Of the mutants created only two children are still alive, and one of them is not only genetically Charles's son, but Erik's as well.</p><p>So now Charles has to get both boys back from the CIA...but figure out how in the hell he's going to break the news with Erik and find a way to parent their son together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unexpected News

Disclaimer: As always I own nothing but the original characters and the story line itself. Everything else belongs to someone else and that's the way it's going to stay. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think.

Note: I am not a huge or knowledgeable Xmen fan in comics or movies. Any mistakes…sorry lol.

Unexpected News

Dr. Charles Xavier was tired. Tired to the point where getting up in the morning was beginning to seem like a great waste of his time when his dreams were so much better than the reality that was his life. What did he have to get up for after all? Yes there was the school, and those who depended upon him to teach and guard them from those who would use, experiment, or kill them, but on days like this Charles couldn't seem to make that really matter. He needed a reason to get up every day and into his hated beyond all words chair. He needed someone in his life to make him live rather than just exist. Someone to fight with him by his side and kick his crippled ass when it needed it. Someone to hold and be held by when life dealt him another fucking, God awful hand. Someone to matter to as more than just a friend, protector, or teacher. He wanted…the impossible, and he knew it.

The fact that he was about to engage in a secret meeting with a woman he'd once cared for romantically wasn't helping his mood much either, especially since Charles knew in his gut that whatever Moira needed to see him about, he wasn't going to like it. She wouldn't be going to these lengths to hide their meeting if this was sanctioned by her agency after all. The CIA and other government agencies would be quite happy to get their hands on him and his telepathic abilities after all, but he'd made his feelings towards them clear and there weren't any active hunts going on for him that he knew about. So yes it made sense for her to be a little worried about providing her agency with a chance to get their hands on him, but Moira wasn't so high ranking that she'd be monitored regularly. And yet she'd insisted on disguises, an out of the way meeting place, and only cryptic as hell messages between them to set said meeting up. Yeah, not good. Not good at bloody all.

So here he and Hank were, waiting for her in a corner of Central Park while ignoring the fact that this was far from the safest place for them to be given the late hour and the fact that Charles looked like a sitting hippie duck in his wheelchair, with only the bookish, sweet faced Hank for protection. Though at least the serum his friend took to keep his human appearance was working well, otherwise there was no way they wouldn't have drawn the attention of everyone in the park's vicinity by now.

Though the wait hadn't been without some amusement, Charles mused to himself with a smile, mentally thanking some of the men who'd passed by them earlier for providing him with some very interesting mental images. And some of those men had mistaken the two of them as men intending to use the darkness of the park for a more…intimate sort of meeting, and Hank's reaction to the not at all coy advances of one of the men had brightened his mood considerably for a bit. Not to mention the fact that Hank had been awkwardly quiet ever since he'd explained to the scientist that this particular park at night wasn't only known for 'housing' muggers and the homeless. It was also a meeting place for homosexuals seeking the sexual company of likeminded men, and they were rather close to one of the gathering places, it seemed.

He was only sorry he hadn't had a camera on hand to capture the man's expression.

And truth be told Charles was more than a little tempted to peek into the man's mind to see what Hank thought of his knowledge on the subject, but obviously that was out of the question since it wasn't a matter of life or death and he didn't have Hank's permission to snoop. Keeping his word in that regard was the only way to keep himself and those closest to him sane and on somewhat level ground.

So Charles kept quiet too and tried not to think about how long it had been since the last time he'd had a decent shag, which was why his amusement hadn't lasted that long before.

One more thing to get hopelessly depressed about at the moment, Charles mused with dark humor, especially since he was laying off the liquor at the moment, which made everything that much worse. The only good thing about not drinking, as far as Charles was concerned at the moment, was that it meant Hank wasn't giving him the looks he hated most recently. A gut wrenching mix of pity and disappointment.

But thank Christ he was only cutting back for the time being, because the more he thought about it the more Charles wanted to suggest that they hit a bar after this. Dammit. Just three more weeks until Hank was going home to visit his family. Then he could finally drink himself into oblivion in peace without his friend feeling obligated to take care of or gently lecture him about what he was doing to himself with his drinking. Not that he could really blame the man, especially since he winced hard just thinking about why he really was currently as sober as a judge.

Charles looked down at his hands as he remembered his cruelty and the fact that while Hank had forgiven him, he had yet to forgive himself for what he'd said before. He'd been pissed out of his mind, true, but that didn't change the fact that when he'd snapped at Hank he'd told him that he had no right telling him he needed to accept the cards life had dealt him when Hank had ended up a furry blue beast because he had tried to change his fucking cards. He was also pretty sure he'd also thrown Raven in the other man's face, repeatedly, but his memory got a little hazy there. But he was sure that he'd hurt Hank, who'd been taking care of him for the past six years and hadn't deserved any of it.

"You alright?"

Shaking the memories from his mind Charles nodded automatically. "Brilliant. What time is it?"

A pause as Hank checked his watch. "She should be here soon. Eager to see her?"

Lips curving in self-deprecation, Charles cocked his head back to look up Hank. "Alas, my friend, but I haven't sunk so deep I'm into pity sex yet. She apologized for shooting me AGAIN in her latest letter, six years later, so that's exactly what it would be." Snort. "Which is not to say we both wouldn't greatly benefit from being laid in the near future."

"No shit." Was Hank's muttered reply.

Laughing, something he knew they both needed, Charles grinned with the boyish charm he'd once been known for. "Too bad we aren't each other's type. Then we'd be set."

"Don't put those images in my head. I will poison you."

Laughing, Charles was all set to tease when images of his own started forming. And given how Hank felt about his sister, on top of the fact that Raven had and possibly still was sleeping with Erik…yeah, he was feeling a little sick to his stomach at the thought now too. Ugh.

)

Thankfully the fates were kind, and before they could be completely traumatized by their own minds a body detached itself from the shadows in front of them and started swaggering in their direction. A body that was clothed to appear young and male, but moved and felt female to Charles's discerning eye. And when he used his abilities to do the briefest of scans, just to be sure, Charles smiled at the confirmation that it was in fact Moira coming towards them, her thoughts focused on trying to note everything around them before Charles politely cut off their connection, whispering softly to Hank who it was so that his 'bodyguard' wouldn't worry as she continued towards them.

Then she was standing before them, her long hair hidden under a hat, the bulky leather jacket doing an excellent job of hiding her soft curves as she smiled at them in greeting, thanking them for coming.

"You did make it seem rather important."

"It is." Her smile fell away with her words, the dim glow of nearby street lights giving her face a shadowed, grim look to it. "And I can't stay long, it's too dangerous. As it is…odds are high they'll figure out that I helped you once they're reported missing."

Leaning forward in his chair, and taking her hand to squeeze it in sympathy, Charles kept his voice as gentle as he could as he asked her what was going on.

"My agency did something. Something unforgivable. I didn't know, Charles, I swear to you both I didn't…but I brought you into this when I came to you for help with Shaw. It's as much my fault as the others but I'd have never allowed it if I'd known. And you have to save the two that are left. I…knowing about the others I…sorry, I'm…since I found out I haven't slept."

"Do you need to sit down?" Hank asked, speaking for the first time.

"No. Thank you. I can't." A deep breath, and then a squaring of shoulders as Moira pushed back against the weight of whatever pain and darkness she bore on them. "When you were first brought in Hank ran tests on all your blood, studying your DNA to find out what made you different, remember?" Both men nodded. "Well at one point he had to take extra because a lab assistant accidentally knocked over and destroyed a bunch of the samples. Right?"

Both men nodded again, having no idea where she was going with this.

"They lied about that. That assistant planted fake blood on the floor and handed the real samples over to my superiors, who in turn gave them to a small group of scientists with orders to use your genetic material to create…to create mutant children with more than one ability who would be raised from birth as CIA operatives."

Stunned silent, Charles heard in some portion of his mind what Hank was saying, the other man shouting about gene manipulation, illegal experimentation, artificial insemination, and his general fury over the idea that the samples his friends had given him in good faith had been used for such a heinous and immoral purpose while Moira tried to get him to lower his voice. And while Xavier understood and was in agreement with the majority of what his friends were saying his thoughts were focused on two more important things. One was that Erik had said that this was something the world's governments would do, round them up to use them as weapons and lab rats, and the second…

"You said two? There are two children out there?"

Both went silent, Moira taking Charles hand again, as he'd let go in his shock moments before. "Yes. There are two still alive."

"What do you mean, still alive?" Hank demanded harshly, his voice hard with emotion and the need to lash out and cause pain to those who had done this to them. "They killed them? The ones who weren't mutant enough for them?" He spit out the words like they were the greatest of profanities.

"It was all experimental; they didn't really know what they were doing, Hank. They had such a small sampling to work with because they were only interested in certain abilities. They had samples from others…but in the end only eight infants were born. Of those three showed no sign of the mutant genes, and the other four only had one ability as opposed to the multiples they were hoping for."

"But one did."

"Yes." Moira nodded in Hank's direction. "He's their greatest achievement. And their most dangerous weapon if he remains in their hands."

Squeezing the hand he held hard enough that they were practically bone to bone, and not caring a fuck about that, Charles asked what he and Hank both had to be thinking. "What happened to the other children?"

"The ones without abilities were removed from the facility and placed in orphanages. I looked into it, and they're all in good homes. They're safe. The others…there was an accident four months ago. One of the children…it's believed she lost control and caused a massive explosion that destroyed the labs and nearly everyone involved in the experiments. The only survivors weren't inside, including one child who'd been taken outside as a reward, and another who was offsite for work. The project was shut down after it happened; the higher ups decided it was too much work and expense to rebuild right now. Both children are now living with the agent in charge of the experiments as his adopted sons."

In a startling display of speed Hank stomped a short distance away before swinging his fist and punching a huge dent into the large oak tree they'd been waiting by. And Hank didn't stop punching the hell out of it until the tree snapped and broken in half, its crash to the ground echoing in the park like a gunshot.

Having jumped a little at the display of fury and strength, as well as going for her hidden sidearm instinctively, Moira's voice was that of someone trying to talk someone off a ledge as she told Hank that none of the samples of his DNA had resulted in pregnancy.

The look he aimed in her direction made it clear that didn't change his feelings on the matter one bit.

"I can't stay much longer. I'm sorry. It was pure coincidence I found out about this, someone higher up just assumed I knew about it because I was involved in what happened in Cuba." Opening her coat as she spoke, Moira reached in and retrieved a manila envelope. "All the information I have is in here, including where to find the children and all the important data on them. Don't retrieve them until you have a solid plan in place, they're safe for the time being and no one wants them to get caught in the crossfire when you get them."

Taking the envelope automatically, Charles stared at it blindly, still unable to wrap his mind around it all.

"Good luck. I'm so sorry about this, Charles. I wish…" A brief brush of her fingertips over his cheek, and then Moira spun around and hurried back off the way she'd come, leaving them behind to deal with the fallout of what they'd just learned.

)

Hours later Charles sat by his bedroom window with a lamp at his side that provided the only light in the room while he stared out into the night sky's inky blackness. The file Moira had given him sat on his lap, one hand resting on top of it to keep it there until he needed to remind himself that he hadn't imagine it all again. That he wasn't drunk or in some bizarre universe where this sort of thing was possible. Because it shouldn't be possible, and yet it was. The proof was right in front of him. And hell, at this point Charles couldn't have told anyone how many times he'd looked at the picture of his son already. His son. He had a five year old son with dark coloring, ears that were just slightly too big, and had a hint of dimples in his chubby cheeks. Arthur. His and Erik's son. Their son by blood. Theirs.

If heads really could just self-combust Charles figured his would have done so hours ago.

Better to think about the data collected about the boy's abilities, Charles told himself, his telepathy having been passed down through his blood to his son. Arthur was a very strong telepath according to the file, on par with Charles at that age, he was guessing. And no one knew better than he did how alone and scary it was to be a telepath in a sea of people who would fear or abuse his gift if they knew, with no one who could really understand what it was like to know so much about the way people truly thought and viewed the world…But his son wouldn't have to go through that alone. He'd have someone who understood him and the curse that was often their 'gift'.

Arthur also had Erik's gift for manipulating metal, but he wasn't strong or consistent there, and it apparently took a lot out of the boy depending on the variables involved. So while that definitely hinted at Erik's parentage, it was the boy's appearance that would convince his old friend that Arthur was his son too. Because there was no doubt in Charles' mind that the boy was Erik's, the resemblance their son bore to a cousin he'd seen in the other man's memories was too striking to be a coincidence. And it was heart wrenching beyond words too, since Charles knew that the boy who'd been one of Erik's favorite playmates as a child had been sent straight to the gas chambers decades before. Small for his age, as well as two years younger than Erik, the boy hadn't stood a chance as soon as he was delivered to Auschwitz. Another death Erik had never forgiven himself.

Which brought Charles own thoughts back to the fact that he was faced with a moral dilemma of epic proportions where Erik was concerned. Again.

It went without saying that Erik and Raven's help would be invaluable in retrieving the boys, but not only would it take him a while to get ahold of them, and he refused to wait that long, but there was no question in his mind that there would be unnecessary bloodshed if the two were part of the rescue operation. Not that he wouldn't understand their desire to kill everyone involved in this, he was right there with them whenever he thought of what could or might still happen. If Moira hadn't found out about them or something had happened to the boys before now, so that he was left knowing he'd lost a son he'd never even had the chance to lay eyes on…

The idea that his child had been raised to be a lab rat and tool for the CIA, there were no words for the amount of rage and hate just the thought of it inspired in him. Quite frankly Charles wanted to experiment on everyone involved as inhumanely as possible and see how they liked it. But the boys and the children who'd died hadn't been mistreated, he reminded himself, and as long as his son and the other boy were well when he retrieved them it would be wrong of him to sic Erik and Raven on the CIA director and his people. Especially Erik.

So ergo the question was…could he trust Erik enough to tell him about their son once he had him?


	2. A Covert Rescue

A Covert Rescue

Doing his best not to squirm or fidget, which was no easy thing considering how nervous and hopped up on caffeine he was, Charles contented himself with lightly drumming his fingers on the van door for a few minutes before roughly running a hand through his hair, the new length of it startling him anew. Something it had been doing since he'd had it cut and styled a week ago, Charles acknowledge silently with a smirk, the stylist his mother had once used had actually blanched a little when he'd come in, wanting the best rather than just his normal barber. He now had his old hair cut back, as well as zero facial hair thanks to the close shave he was currently sporting. Both the shortness of his hair and the lack of beard or even stubble was shocking after not giving a damn about his looks for so long, but when he'd looked in the mirror after finding out about Arthur he hadn't been able to help but remember all the times he'd spent as a boy watching his father shave and groom himself, his father telling him how important one's appearance was. And while his former look had actually been pretty fashionable, in certain circles, it wasn't how a dad was supposed to look in Charles's books. So he was back to the boyish haircut and a baby face he'd never appreciated and still didn't.

But that wasn't what he should be thinking about, Charles reminded himself, especially since he was on his way to rescue two little boys from a well secured location that might not be guarded at the moment, but would have the best security money could buy. Not to mention the fact that it was situated in a wealthy residential area that wouldn't be easy to enter without being noticed by others, even given the late hour. It also didn't help that even if they got in and found the boys without incident, the two might be terrified and try to fight them. Might fight to stay where they were, having no idea who Charles was or that there could be any life aside from the one they'd lived as the property of the CIA. And even if Arthur had been told his biological father's name at some point, the other boy was genetically Emma Frost and some other mutant's offspring. He couldn't even tell his son's adoptive brother that he was on friendly terms with the boy's biological mother. Though hopefully the other boy liked Arthur enough to stay with them, especially since Charles couldn't see a woman like Frost being interested in being a mother to him. And the other mutant donor had apparently died while in CIA custody, so that wasn't an issue either. They'd feared his ability, and he'd killed two agents and wounded four before they'd shot him to death according to the file he'd read. Ergo James would most likely end up in his custody as well, provided the extraction went well.

But how hard was it going to be to parent two kids? He had no idea if he could be a proper father to one, much less two. His father had died when he was still only a boy himself, and after losing his father his mother had crawled into a bottle when she wasn't throwing parties and spending money to try and fill the gap that his father had left in her heart. He did still remember how it had been when his father had been alive, one of the benefits of being a telepath who could mine his memories and keep them fresh, but was that enough? He'd sorta raised Raven, or at least tried to act as a male authority figure when she got older, and that had exploded in his face to say the least. Would boys be better? Easier? Would the fates cut him at least that much slack here?

Mentally Charles thanked God for Hank, who was postponing his trip home to help get the kids settled first. Apparently his friend had been roped into babysitting his next door neighbors' five kids growing up, so Hank had experience with kids and was willing to lend his expertise until Charles had his feet under him. Or as much as they could be seeing as he was a cripple in a wheelchair, which was going to make parenting twenty times harder for him. Ugh.

"We're here, Charles."

Blinking in surprise, dammit but he should have been paying better attention to his surroundings, Charles straightened in his seat and looked out the van window at the large house surrounded by a six foot tall metal fence. The first bit of security they'd have to get past.

Or more accurate to say the first bit the others would have to get past, Charles amended bitterly, seeing as he couldn't very well break into the house in his chair. He'd be nothing but a liability. But Hank came and opened the side of the van door, so that at least Charles could see out while he and Alex and Sean broke into the house which he appreciated.

"So this is it, huh? Well at least Charles can get us the best lawyers there are." Sean's voice squeaked a little as he said it, which made Alex punch him lightly in his shoulder. "Ow."

Rolling his eyes Charles was about to remind them to act their ages for Christ sakes when Alex turned and gave him a questioning look.

"Aren't you going to try to talk to him first? Your son."

"What do you mean?"

"You're a telepath, he's a telepath. Maybe you can talk to him before we get in there. I figured you'd have thought about this already."

"I could probably find his mind and speak to him, if he's not sleeping too deeply, but it's unlikely at his age that he'll be strong enough to answer back even if he was awake. Plus I'd imagine he has some natural mental shielding in place, and I don't know if his is powerful enough to keep me out, or if it would hurt him if I could get through." He still wasn't sure if it was the injuries Erik had given her or his own actions that had caused Frost pain when he'd forced his way into her strong mind in Russia.

"Do you think I should try, Hank?"

"Couldn't hurt."

Raising a hand Charles touched his fingers to his face as he concentrated on the minds inside the house, recognizing two adult minds and then two young, somehow pure minds that were situated on the other side of the house from each other. One mind he could sense a hint of telepathy, but it was very weak, while the other child…was strong. So strong.

'Arthur. Can you hear me?'

At least a minute of silence passed, and then a sweetly childish, cautious voice slipped into Charles' mind, asking who he was.

"I've reached him and he can hear me. Give me a minute to see if I can get some information from him." And that said Charles turned his attention back to speaking telepathically with his son.

'My name is Charles Xavier. I'm your-' 'You're my dad!' Swallowing hard against the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat, Charles was grateful he didn't have to use his vocal cords to respond as he told the boy that yes, he was his father. And he'd come to take him away so that they could be together, if that was okay with him. 'Only if James can come too. I can't leave him.' 'We've come to get James as well.' 'Okay, good. Just let us get our stuff together and we'll come to you. That way you won't get caught. What side of the street are you on?' 'The west side. Is it safe for you to come to us? We can come in and get you both.' 'No, it's safer for us to come to you. We sneak outside all the time, so we know how. We'll be out soon so just wait for us. Bye.' The mental bond severing, Charles didn't bother to try and reconnect it to tell Arthur to be careful, trusting that his son knew what he was doing since apparently the boy had done this before. Not that that stopped or even calmed down the butterflies in his stomach. But there was nothing he could do but wait now. Oh, and tell the others what Arthur had said.

)

It was Hank who either heard or spotted the two boys first as they came around the corner of the building, the scientist pointing to them so that they could all watch as the two moved with covert precision that suggested that yes, they were very aware of the cameras on the property that they needed to avoid. In the dark it should have been difficult to tell which boy was which, but the light of the moon happened to hit one of them just right for a moment, giving the boy's light hair a shine that made it clear that the larger of the two was James. It also became apparent in that moment that the boys were both wearing backpacks, but that didn't seem to be slowing them down at all so Charles tried not to worry that the sacks would increase the boys' chance of being caught somehow.

And then all of their attention turned to the fence at the sound of metal being manipulated, the grinding noise immediately reminding Charles of training with Erik, the lump in his throat getting that much bigger at the mental comparison.

But it wasn't Erik who was slowly widening the gap between the bars of the fence, making a space that would be big enough for a child to slip through. No, it was their son, showing that while his abilities in this area weren't as strong as Erik's the boy's control over the metal manipulation ability he'd inherited was leagues ahead of Erik given his much younger age. It was impressive as hell.

As soon as the space was wide enough the boys were at the fence, Arthur pushing James to go out first with Sean scooping the blond boy up as soon as he was through, the two heading towards the van as they'd practiced while Alex revved the van's engine a little prematurely. Hank meanwhile waited to grab Arthur, his friend spinning around as soon as he had the boy to run over to pass Charles his son before Hank moved to close the van door before hopping into the front passenger seat.

Charles didn't even hear the door slam or notice as they pulled away and started their getaway, all his attention on the boy sitting on his lap, staring at him with just as wrapt interest.

And then the boy glanced around, lingering for a moment on the opposite seat where Sean sat with James on his lap before Arthur turned back to meet his gaze with a questioning look on his adorable little face.

"My other father didn't come too?"

Oh. He knew about Erik too.

"He's traveling at the moment, and I couldn't get ahold of him in time for this. But when we get home I'm going to write him a letter about you, and you can write him a letter too if you'd like. We can write it together." A pause. "He's going to be so happy to meet you."

Actually he still hadn't been able to decide whether Erik would allow himself to be a father to Arthur, instead of just using the boy's existence as another reason to hate regular people, but he had decided earlier that he would have to trust Erik enough to tell him, knowing that if the situations were reversed he'd hate Erik with all his heart for keeping his son from him.

"And I'm staying with Arthur, right?"

Turning his attention to the other boy, and feeling like a complete heel for not at least acknowledging the other child before, Charles gave James what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Yes. I don't know where your biological mother is, but I'll make every effort to find her so that you can meet her. But you will most definitely be living with Arthur and I for a while."

Considering his words carefully James nodded, but gave Charles a look that was oddly adult in his young face that hinted at his mother's beauty, though was boyish enough that the kid probably wouldn't get beaten up for looking like a girlie boy either. "Arthur and I are a team. We're ALWAYS together."

"Understood."

The feel of a soft, small hand on his cheek made Charles close his eyes for a moment, absorbing the touch before opening his eyes again to give his son his attention again.

"We have trackers on our legs you need to remove."

"Shit." Alex said from the front, Charles and Hank both automatically telling the man not to swear in front of the kids while Sean just smirked and wisely said nothing.

While Alex mumbled about having to start watching his language Charles and Sean both shifted the boys around so that they could easily access the boys' legs, lifting up pant legs to reveal that yes, there were trackers attached to their little legs like they were criminals that needed to be kept track of.

Charles had to force himself to keep his swearing all in his head as he asked Hank for his Swiss Army knife or something similar to remove the trackers with.

Handing it over Hank also retrieved a flashlight from the glove compartment and handed it over so that Sean could hold it over the boy's leg so that Charles could see what he was doing as he studied the device, which was thankfully not that hard to get rid of since the CIA had obviously struggled to stick both boys with trackers that didn't have much metal for Arthur to manipulate and get rid of. It was actually a pretty crappy design, and Arthur explained that the reason they hadn't removed them themselves was that they hadn't seen any point in taking them off until they were ready to escape.

"We didn't know your phone number." James added helpfully while Charles handed the device over to Hank to smash to smithereens.

"So you knew about us all this time?" Sean asked with interest as Charles handed the Swiss Army knife over to Hank since he couldn't remove James's tracker without letting Arthur go, which he wasn't willing to do at the moment. For safety reasons. And because the kid was his son and this was his first time holding him, so sue him.

Both boys nodded.

"They showed us videos." James told them.

"They're really scared of my other father." Arthur added knowingly, his brows scrunching up a moment later. "If I call you Dad, what should I call him, Dad? My other dad, I mean."

Clearing his throat loudly, Charles's voice sounded husky and emotional to his own ears as he stated that there were a few other forms of father Arthur could use, and that Erik had called his own father Papa, so he could use that if he liked.

Saying Papa under his breath a couple of times, testing it out, Arthur nodded after a few moments of consideration before stating that yes, Papa was good.

"So where are we going to live now? Do you have a yard? A pet? If not can we get a dog? Arthur and I really want a dog, but they wouldn't get us one." James gave Charles a big eyes look that Charles thought was extremely effective and did not bode well for the future. He was the type to spoil children under normal circumstances, and now that he was going to have two of his own that he felt he had to spoil for missing the first five years of their lives…oh boy.

"We have a really big house, and an even bigger yard. But no, no pets, though we can talk about getting one later. My mother never let my sister and I have pets either, and I always wanted a dog too."

"Yes!" James crowed in delight, while Arthur just smiled at the idea before yawning, James yawning right after.

Hank crushed James' tracker in his hand and then told the boys that they should both try to get some sleep. It was way past their bedtimes, and they'd be home before they knew it.

"Who are you, anyway?" James asked, obviously not wanting to sleep just yet.

Lips curving in amusement Hank told them that they could call him Uncle Hank.

"And who's our aunt? Why isn't she here too?" Arthur asked as he yawned again, Charles instinctively shifting his hold to press the boy up against his body to encourage Arthur to curl up and go to sleep because yeah, this would be a lot easier if the boys were asleep so that he could deal with everything he was thinking and feeling now that he had his living, breathing son in his arms. He was real now, not just on paper or a picture.

"Your aunt is named Raven, and she's with your Papa right now. You'll get to meet her soon too, hopefully." And to distract the boys Charles reminded himself of his manners and introduced Sean and Alex, who he didn't add uncle to since it would be up to them if they wanted the title. He didn't have a problem with them calling Hank uncle of course; the scientist was family to him at this point. And he'd need all the help he could get with the kids.

Alex and Sean said hi, and the kids echoed the greetings before James asked what their abilities were. Sean naturally started to brag immediately, the redhead looking a little annoyed when both boys were asleep before he was finished describing his flying ability and the epicness of his vocal cords.

The men in the van were amused and fought back smirks the rest of the way home.


	3. A Taste of Parenthood

Happy Early Valentines Day, even though there's nothing really romantic about this, heh.

A Taste of Parenthood

Charles figured that he was going to prove Hank right the first time he tried to move out of his chair later, it was going to hurt like a bitch after spending the whole night in the damn thing, but Charles figured that the pain would be worth the peace of mind he'd gotten from staying in the boys' room through the night. Or as much a peace of mind as one could have while watching two five year old boys sleep while knowing that once they were awake he would become their sole parent and guardian without even babysitting experience to fall back on.

Very soon Charles knew that both boys would be looking to him for love and care, and he would have to figure out how to be the best parent he had it in him to be. Because yes the other people in the house had all promised to help him, especially Hank, but at the end of the day James and Arthur were his, and the idea that he would screw up with them scared the shit out of him. Most parents had months to get used to the idea of kids, much less having them, and he'd had less than a week to prepare. Not to mention the fact that there was usually there was a co parent to share the ups and downs with, while in his case Erik was likely going to be more a hindrance than a help once the other man found out about Arthur.

Frankly he had to massage his temples just thinking about what Erik's reaction was going to be, something that he'd been doing a lot lately. But at least he could be grateful that he wouldn't be in the room when the letter he intended to write his friend finally reached the other man's hands.

It was probably better not to think about Erik at this point period, really, since that was only borrowing a migraine Charles really didn't need right now. Focusing on how the hell to be a good dad when his own had died when he was just a boy, well that was also headache inducing, but to a lesser degree and what Charles knew he should be thinking about. He was a telepath after all, he knew how to go back into his own memories to mine for memories of his father. Hell, even his step father had given him some very definite ideas of how a father shouldn't behave too, which bore recalling.

So…he'd abuse his telepathic ability to the extreme to learn his boys and what they needed from him, and hopefully spoiling them a little with toys, time to play, and really good desserts at dinner would help him win them over. His boys had been stuck with healthy food all of the time, and that just wasn't right anyway. You were supposed to eat too much crap when you were a kid. It was practically kid law.

And he'd let them redo the room however the wanted to, Charles mused, having spent hours now looking over his old nursery in the dim light they'd left on for the boys. It wasn't horribly outdated, and he still liked the robin's egg blue of the walls, but this was going to be their room now and they could paint or wallpaper it however the wanted. They were the ones who had to live with it after all. And he'd need to take them shopping for clothes and stuff too…which hopefully he'd have help with since shopping was not his thing at all. The chair just made it that much worse.

Seeing the covers shifting out of the corner of his eye, and hearing the mattress creak a little, Charles turned his attention to wheeling his chair in James's direction, surprised to see that rather than waking up in increments the boy looked wide awake as he sat up and looked around, staring at him with open curiosity.

"You really came to get us. Both of us."

"I did. And you're home now, James. No one here will make you use your abilities, or make you act like an adult all the time. Here you'll get to play and go outside like any other child would. We'll keep you safe."

From the files Moira had given him Charles knew that while the children had been in the facility they had rarely been allowed to go outdoors or truly play. They hadn't been physically harmed by their keepers, thank God, but they'd been in a kid version of boot camp from the time they could walk properly. Fun hadn't been a big part of their lives. But it would be now.

"I like outside."

"Me too."

"And you'll play with us like a real dad?" James wanted to know, his eyes noticeable lingering on the chair Charles was stuck in, no doubt wondering how much he could actually do with them because of it.

Which hurt, of course it did, but Charles worked up a smile anyway. "There are some things I won't be able to do with you two, obviously, because my legs and spine don't work as well as they used to. but I'll play with you as much as I can, James. And there are other people, like your Uncle Hank, who can run around with you and Arthur when I can't."

"What happened to you?"

"I was hit by a stray bullet several years ago. It was an accident. I can stand and move my legs sometimes, but it hurts a lot so I don't do that much."

Considering the fact that he'd started off not being able to feel his legs at all, Charles knew he was lucky that he'd healed up as well as he had. Plus not caring enough to worry about letting Hank experiment on him had paid off, surprisingly, which was why he was as self-sufficient as he was at this point. But he was still stuck in the chair, and that would make parenting that much harder.

"Can I ride in your chair sometime, when you aren't in it?"

Laughing, he should have seen that coming, Charles agreed that yes, he'd let the boys play with it sometimes.

"Cool." Apparently considering the matter settled, James looked around with more interest again, his eyes lingering on some of the old toys that still held a place on the bookshelves. "Is this going to be our room, then? Mine and Arthur's?"

"It is. I'll let you two pick out new wallpaper and such later if you want."

A loud yawn interrupting whatever James's response to that would have been, both the boy and Charles looked over to see that Arthur was awake too, the boy blinking around sleepily as he tried to orient himself before focusing on James, who beamed at him as he explained that they were in their dad's house in THEIR room.

"Oh. Good. It wasn't a dream. Hi, Dad."

"Good morning, Arthur. And no, it wasn't a dream. Lucky us." Smiling at the boy, Charles hoped that he looked more confident and relaxed than he actually felt. After all, the real parenting started now that both boys were awake and aware of him. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes." Another yawn. "Where's the bathroom?"

"Ah, right. Follow me. I'll show you and then we can head down for breakfast."

"Food!" James.

"We should get dressed before breakfast." Arthur.

"Sounds good to me."

And so with two little boys trailing after him Charles steered his chair in the direction of the door, officially starting his first full day as a dad.

)

It didn't take too long for Charles to figure his boys out even without the help of his telepathy. They were just children after all, and while there were depths to their personalities they both hid well, Charles had spent far too much time figuring people out to be fooled even without the use of his gift. James was very much the open book for the most part, a very outgoing, curious, and charming kid with a mischievous streak just waiting for the opportunity to come out. Charles was pretty sure that they were all going to spend a lot of time getting zapped once the boy was able to control his ability to manipulate electricity. A human hand buzzer in the making, that was James. And the telepathic genes the scientists had no doubt wanted Emma to pass on to her son were there, though it was very weak and James had to be touching the person to stand a chance of catching anything from their minds. Arthur was the only one James ever talked to in their heads so far though.

Arthur, in contrast to James, was much more introverted, quiet, and contemplative. Scary intelligent, Charles quickly realized, with a capacity to absorb facts and data that made it quite clear their son was going to outstrip both his parents in that area before he graduated high school. His son loved puzzles and mental games especially, which meant Charles now had a new chess playing buddy to look forward to as the boy got better with every game they played.

The key to understanding the boys though, was to accept that they were a pair. A duo. Were twins in their minds even though they looked nothing alike and didn't share any bloodlines. They had latched onto each other in the labs, it seemed, and trying to separate them did not end well for the person stupid enough to try. Once they got used to their new home and the people in it that might change to a degree, but Charles was sure that the two would still be extremely close when they were old men arguing over what to watch on the television.

Arthur didn't have the same appreciation for Saturday morning cartoons as James did.

Alex, for the most part, avoided James and Arthur both out of fear of accidentally hurting one of them, and because he had never been around children and found them either terrifying or annoying depending on the situation. Sean, by contrast, was a little miffed that he didn't get to take on the role of hero worshipped older brother. Both boys thought Sean was ridiculous and rather amusing at times though, so at least they were willing to let Sean hang out slash babysit them when Charles and Hank needed to be somewhere else. Naturally neither boy had any problem with Hank, he'd won them over for good when he let them do weird experiments in his labs and constantly slipped them candy. Plus he had actual experience with children, unlike the rest of them. He was their second favorite male in the house aside from Charles himself.

He was their favorite though, which was something Charles still had trouble wrapping his mind around even though his gift was never wrong. At first they hadn't been sure of him, or their new living arrangements in general, but that had all changed the second night they were with him.

Since hanging out in their bedroom every night was just creepy, not to mention would probably do some serious damage to his already damaged spine, Charles had resigned himself to the fact that he'd have to let them sleep by themselves in their room without him hovering over them.

Unfortunately as a new parent who knew all too well the evils that lurked in the minds of men, on top of the possibility that the CIA might find a way to locate them, Charles hadn't been able to leave them for the night without blurting out a reminder that if they needed him, or got scared during the night for any reason, they could sleep in his room with him.

James, being James, had gotten all puffed up at the idea that anyone would think he was a baby who needed to be coddled at five, and not wanting to insult the kid Charles had blabbed out a story about how when he was six there'd been a really bad thunderstorm that had scared him so much that he'd climbed into bed with his parents. A true story, though Charles had left out the part where his father had tried to explain thunder storms to him scientifically without a lot of success, since Arthur would probably be insulted if Charles implied he didn't know that stuff already. The point was he'd ended up sleeping between his parents and that hadn't made him a baby.

Neither James nor Arthur had seemed terribly convinced, but at about two in the morning that night Charles had woken up to the sound of light footsteps on his hardwood floors, and then two little boys had hopped up on his bed and crawled over to take a spot on either side of him. Arthur had whispered to him that they'd decided that if their former keepers decided to come for them they wanted to be around to protect him, since he couldn't walk. Which had been partially true, but they'd also been worried about being taken, and had taken comfort from being close to him. So he held them both close, their heads resting on his shoulders, and he loved them. Loved them both equally and regardless of who was his son by blood and who was his in practice. Just that easy.

And being a telepath Arthur had known it, passed it on to James, and that had sealed the deal, so to speak.

So after the first week with the two boys Charles was cautiously optimistic that things would be okay. Or they would be right up until the day that Erik got the letter contained in the package that he'd given to a friend of the family who he knew was still in touch with his sister. The letter would get to Raven first, she'd give it to Erik, and then…well then he'd find out how badly Erik reacted to the news when the other man either called, wrote, or showed up on their doorstep.

Arthur had asked him, point blank, why Erik didn't live in the mansion with the rest of them already, and knowing better than to lie to a fellow telepath Charles had told his son the absolute truth. That he loved Erik, that hadn't changed, but the two of them saw the world very differently, and just couldn't get along anymore.

Naturally Arthur had wanted to know if they'd tried using their words, and Charles had assured him that they had. He'd also promised that he would do his very best to make sure that despite all the arguing they sometimes did he would make Erik welcome so that he could come and see Arthur whenever he wanted.

Arthur had taken his hand and said that he and James had decided that thye wanted to stay with him, and they'd tell their papa so when he came to visit them.

Charles wished it was that easy.

)

Watching the yellow and orange flames sway and dance in the fireplace, the coin hovering above his palm moving in turn, Erik lost himself in his thoughts as he tuned out the others in the room, having absolutely no desire to converse with any of them. They were mutants, he was among his own kind after decades spent thinking he was alone in the world, but right now…right now there was only one person he wanted to speak to and he wasn't here.

He could pick up the phone, Erik acknowledged with deep bitterness, had done so a few times in the nearly six years since they'd parted ways, but no, Charles was lost to him. Lost because for all his understanding of mankind, and the insights his gift had given him, Charles still refused to see the truth about the world around them and the people who inhabited it. Refused to see that it was better to be feared than prey just waiting to be captured, used, and ultimately slaughtered by the fearful and ignorant.

Staring into the flames Erik mentally spoke to them in Charles' place, telling him that one day he'd understand that he'd been right all along. That one day Charles would have to accept that he'd been right all this time, and that he should have chosen him and his path that day in Cuba.

But no good came from thinking about 'what ifs' and 'should have beens'. He'd learned that lesson well. Wouldn't have allowed himself to think about Charles right now if not for the package that had arrived for Mystique earlier from a friend of hers. A package that had originally come from Charles.

Charles had written to her, on and off, in the years that had passed since they'd all parted ways. Never to him, it had been radio silence since that day, but occasionally Charles sent a letter to his sister through a mutual friend of theirs. Mystique both hated and loved to get them, and was right now off somewhere reading her letter in private, not wanting anyone around to see her reaction to whatever Charles had had to say. To the best of his knowledge Charles never asked her to come home…but Erik did sometimes wonder if his friend asked about him. Or if Charles wanted nothing to do with him, still blaming him for his damaged spine.

He'd never meant to hurt him. Would have never…

The feeling of eyes on him broke through his thoughts, Erik tensing automatically as he concentrated on that, sensing who it was even before Mystique came up beside his chair, her voice soft and tentative.

"He enclosed a letter for you. He says it's important."

Staring over at the letter she held in her hand, Erik asked if she knew what it was about.

"No. He just said that it was important…and that if you wouldn't read it I should. And then tell you what it says. He said you deserved to know first, whatever it is."

Mulling it over, Erik used his ability to send the coin sliding into his pocket before reaching out to take the manila envelope from her.


	4. A Papa Again

Note: I am borrowing from comic book canon when it comes to certain members of Magneto's family past. And remember this takes place about five years before the second First Class film. Thanks.

A Papa Again

Taking the letter from her Erik turned the envelope around and around in his hand in silent deliberation, much as he'd done with the coin moments before. Did he want to read the letter? Was it really important or had Charles just insinuated it was to arouse his curiosity? And of course just because Charles thought it was important didn't mean it actually was. He had no interest in riding to mankind's rescue ever again unless it benefited him in some significant way. And did he want to team up with Charles again? Revisit old times like nothing had happened. Living like they were two sides of the same coin for however long Charles needed his help for. Knowing what it was to be complete in a way that he'd never been with anyone else before only to lose it again. He'd barely been able to leave the…

Shutting that thought down hard Erik glared at the letter and then tossed it over his shoulder, not caring if Mystique caught it or not. "Not interested."

"All right." Mystique's voice was hushed and subdued, and in the silence that followed Erik clearly heard the sound of her ripping open the envelope, obeying her brother's order to read it in his stead. Of course.

Not that he cared. He had no interest in seeing Charles ever again. Not unless the man was coming to admit that he was wrong and that his place was with his own kind. With him.

But because he was paying attention in spite of himself, Erik heard the harsh, indrawn breath from behind him, sensed the way Mystique had tensed up because whatever she was reading was having a strong effect on her. Strong enough that when Erik twisted around in his seat to look he could see shock written all over her face, her lips silently moving to form words he couldn't make out.

What the devil?

"Everyone out of the room NOW!"

No one moving to leave in reaction to her yelled out command, Erik stood up from his seat and looked around to see all eyes were on him, waiting to see what he thought of Mystique commanding them in his place. And while normally he would have had some rather harsh words for her over it, the way she met his gaze and told him that he needed to tell the others to leave the room made him inclined to listen to her. At least for the moment.

"Everyone out."

As one everyone left without a word, though there were some backward glances before the last member of their league closed the door softly behind her, leaving the room empty save for the two of them.

"Well?"

"You need to read this." This time she held out a folded piece of paper towards him, the manila envelope in her other hand.

Taking it from her, Erik gave her a look that promised retribution if she was wrong about this. And then turning around Erik retook his seat on the chair while he unfolded the letter, which was written in Charles familiar hand.

Erik,

I hope that this letter finds you well and happy, especially as the news I have to impart on you will cause you a great deal of anger, grief, and, I hope, happiness once you've gotten over the shock. I would advise that before you continue reading this letter you ask everyone else to leave the room, as you're reaction to the contents of this letter might potentially put them in danger.

The reason I'm writing to you is that I recently discovered something that you need to know about our time working with the CIA together. As you'll recall we all gave blood for Hank to study, and more than just one sample as we were led to believe that one set of said samples were accidentally destroyed. They were not. Unbeknown to Hank or an y of our allies, those samples were taken and used in a project that was formed to attempt to create mutant children that could be raised as future CIA operatives. The project, for the most part, was a complete failure, and only a small number of children were successfully brought to term and found to have mutant abilities. That number dropped to two children after an accident at the training facility where they were being kept. Of those two children, Erik, one was born from my genes. Mine and yours as well. We have a son.

On some level Erik was aware of the screeching metal as around him as furniture, fixtures, and everyday items containing some metal component twisted, bent until they shattered, or flew through the air to smash into and destroy whatever it came into contact with. And on some level Erik's ingrained training tried to re leash itself, to find that inner calm that he'd managed to develop thanks to Charles, but was failing for the most part while Mystique's voice also failed to even register with him, her words garbled mutterings to his ears.

Because over those thoughts and words were ones of Anya. Of his lost little girl.

The sound of her voice and little feet as she ran towards him, her arms wide open and her face lit up with love as she called for her Papa. The delicate strength of her arms around his neck as she snuggled in, her sweet voice humming some nonsensical tune she'd made up to amuse herself. The scent of apple blossoms, a laugh that was more musical than a bird's…and the sound of that same voice screaming for him. The sight of her blackened and curled up corpse surrounded by the wreckage of their burned out home.

His baby dead. Dead because of him. Silenced forever because of man's fear and weakness.

And then, as his powers started to cause serious damage to the elements in the building's structure made of metal a piece of paper was being held in front of his face, the image there stunning Erik enough that he forgot about everything but what was in front of him.

All the metal came to a grinding halt, what was flying through the air collapsed to the ground as Erik stared at the photograph a panting and bleeding Mystique was holding up for him to look at.

Fredrick.

But no, not Fredrick, Erik realized in seconds as the initial shock of this latest surprise started to dull just enough for him to really see what he was looking at. This wasn't a picture of his little cousin who had been his closet friend and playmate when they were boys together. Fredrick was dead.

And yet the boy in this picture had his dead cousin's face and ears, Erik hungry gaze noted, his seeking looks voracious in their intensity. The dimples were there, as was the intelligent eyes that had always seemed to see more than anyone else did. But Fredrick's hair had been straighter and finer, the clothes the boy wore in this picture not ones he recognized. And he recognized the background of the picture, having spent hours in that study playing chess with Charles.

This...this was not Fredrick. This…this was his son.

Snatching the photograph out of her hand Erik studied every pixel all over again, imprinting the boy's image into his mind. Only when she held out two more photographs did his eyes shift away from the photograph, Erik's eyes quickly taking in the new details provided by these new images.

One was his son with another boy, their bond obvious in the arms they had wrapped around each other and their body language. A bond that was equally obvious in the third picture, which showed the boys with Charles, one on each of the man's knees with his arms wrapped protectively around their waists, holding them in place while joining them in smiling broadly at the camera.

"His…his name is Arthur. If you didn't get that far in the letter."

Lowering the hand that held the photographs, Erik starred at the women kneeling in front of his chair, scratches on her face and the blood dark against the blue of her skin. Her golden eyes were wary and watchful, but she didn't back down as she fingered two pieces of paper, one of them partially torn. The one he'd been reading before he…he didn't remember anything between reading the word son and the picture Mystique had shoved in his face.

"What's the other paper?" His voice sounded utterly wrecked to Erik's ears.

"Your son wrote you a letter too."

Holding out his free hand Erik took the pages from her and after settling the photographs carefully on his lap Erik set aside Charles's letter and focused on the undamaged piece of paper that was lined and marked with very careful, childish printing.

Dear Papa,

I am your son Arthur. I am five and am very happy living with Dad. The people who made Jack and I were not mean to us, so please don't hurt them. Please come to see me at Dad's house, I want to meet you and play chess with you. Dad is teaching me his tricks.

Please Come Soon,

Arthur

P.S. The boy in the pictures with me is my brother like Dad is Aunt Raven's brother. Please be his Papa too. Thank you.

Reading the words a good six times before he had it memorized, Erik collected it and the photographs and set them between his thigh and the chair, wanting them close and protected from the outside world before he turned his attention to the damaged piece of paper from Charles, which was thankfully still readable.

'His name is Arthur, and he's health and happy. They didn't harm him, Erik, I swear that to you. They were never beaten or starved, and the other deaths were a result of one of the children losing control of their ability, not deliberate on anyone's part. The others and I retrieved Arthur and Jack, the other boy, without incident, and I intend to keep them both here at the estate.

I know that Arthur's as much your son as mine, and that you should have as much say about his future as I do. I would ask you to recognize the fact that your lifestyle isn't conducive to raising a small child, though, and you know I will do everything in my power to protect and train our son to both survive and flourish in the outside world.

Arthur has both our gifts, though his telepath is much stronger, and I can't stress to you enough how important it is for me to train him to both understand and harness that gift over the coming years. It can drive you to madness, Erik, the thoughts and feelings of hundreds of minds screaming into yours. I didn't have someone who understood what it was like, and Arthur shouldn't suffer as I did.

I also know that discussing everything we need to talk about in letters would be pointless, so I hope that you will either call me or come and visit so that we can discuss Arthur's future together. You know how to contact me, and I look forward to hearing from you.

And Erik, if the past makes it too difficult for you to see him for the time being, I will understand and explain your previous losses to him. You know I do understand.

Your Friend,

Charles

P.S. Arthur is very attached to James, as he makes clear in his letter to you, and if you do come it would be advisable for you to treat Jack like another son as he asked. Otherwise you'll get off to a rather rocky start with him.

Reading the letter again all the way through, and then doing it again, Erik finally felt steady enough to look away from the piece of paper, and really looking around at the damage he'd caused before focusing on Mystique, who stood at a slight distance away, watching him closely but saying nothing.

"I'm going to New York on the first available flight."

She nodded in understanding, stating that she'd see to it immediately.

)

Thanks to Iceland traveling by air from Europe to the United States proved somewhat difficult to arrange, but two days after Charles little 'bombs' had arrived Erik managed to catch a flight to New York with Mystique, who on the outside seemed even more keyed up and nervous than he was. Not surprising really, since he had far more experience in hiding who he was under a calm façade than she did. Which was a good thing, Erik thought with some amusement, since she'd spent a great deal of time recently watching him like he was another bomb set to explode. Annoying sometimes, but understandable since internally he did feel like a pressure cooker, all his unanswered questions and worries for the future bubble away and threatening to blow if some of that pressure wasn't let out soon.

Front and center in his mind, when he wasn't worrying about actually meeting Arthur, was the fact that Erik knew Charles was right about their son's future living arrangements. He wasn't an idiot. His lifestyle wasn't appropriate for a child, and the last thing he wanted to do was scare Arthur away the way he had his late wife. He couldn't risk the boy finding out just how brutal and bloodstained the world had made his father become. And a child saw and understood things far more clearly than adults would sometimes like.

Charles would love the boy; Erik didn't doubt that for a second. The other man would live and die for his child, and could afford the best of everything. Arthur would never lack for love, care, or material possessions. He'd be able to attend the best schools, get the best education, and would have a place among the social elites, most likely, if he drew on the Xavier name.

It was a certain area of their son's education that worried him though. The question of what sort of mutant Charles would raise Arthur to be.

Still…he trusted Charles with their child's well-being more than he trusted himself. Charles, for all his lack of hands on knowledge beforehand, would be a better father than he could be now. He'd been a good father to Anya; he believed that, but losing her had been the last straw for him. His desire to try and move on from his past had ended when humans had burned his house down with his daughter inside of it. There had been no coming back from that. Frankly, he wasn't sure he could be any kind of parent to either Arthur or Jack at this point. He just knew that he had to at least see Arthur. Had to at least lay eyes on him once and tell him, if nothing else, that it wasn't him. That it wasn't some lacking in Arthur that made him incapable of being the sort of parent to him that Charles would be.

He owed his son that much.

And it was that owing that led to them making a pit stop after they'd arrived in the city rather than head straight to Xavier's family estate. No, they stopped at a place Erik would have never thought he'd have cause to visit.

FAO Schwarz was the premier toy store in New York City, and although it had been a long time since he'd had a child to call his own Erik did remember the importance of gifts, particular since he'd missed out on the first five years of Arthur's life. And there was the other boy as well, Jack, who his son apparently expected him to adopt as well. He had to buy something for him too, to be fair and appease Arthur and Charles, who'd both stressed Jack's importance in his son's life. And the boy was a mutant, one of them, so he was family in that way already.

Charles had included copies of the files the CIA had kept on both boys, Mystique had thought it wise to let him calm down a bit before showing those to him, so he knew something of both boys' interests and personalities, not that that made going to the toy store any easier. Above and beyond the nerves that came with buying the children gifts for the first time, the store was jammed full of human families, all so happy and oblivious to the world around them. To the suffering that they so easily caused in others. And the children. Looking at them Erik couldn't help but wonder if their parents would beam at them with such love and pride if said child grew up to be a mutant. To be different than what society deemed 'normal' and 'acceptable'.

But since he could leave as soon as he'd purchased what he'd come for Erik pasted on his more charming persona and with Mystique at his side followed the signs to the board games and puzzles section of the store. Stuffed animals and picture books were the most obvious choices for a five year old, but Erik figured that he could leave those sorts of purchases to Charles.

For Arthur's main gift he bought a chess set featuring beautifully carved and painted figurines dressed in medieval attire. He had no doubt that Charles was teaching the boy to play with the board and figurines that had been in the Xavier family for three generations, but this would be his and Arthur's special board that only they would play on together. Provided of course that he was able to maintain any sort of relationship with the boy. That, plus a couple of books and a walkie talkie set for Arthur to share with Jack, finished off the presents for Arthur. For Jack he picked up a Spirograph set and a collection of LEGO, as Jack was apparently the more creative and artistic of the two.

"Should I…get them something too?"

Looking over at Mystique, who'd been oddly quiet since they'd arrived at the store, Erik kept his sarcasm at bay as he pointed out that that was up to her.

"I'm their…aunt. I should get them something."

"Then get them something."

"But I don't know what five year old boys might want. Charles was older than that when we met. I didn't spend time with children that young even when I was that young. I stayed away from them." Rubbing her hands up and down her upper arms, Mystique's agitation was clear.

Ignoring that for the moment, Erik pointed out that she could just ask someone who worked in the store what he or she would recommend.

If nothing else, her shopping would delay the coming meeting with both Charles and Arthur a little longer.


	5. The World Is Spinning

The World Is Spinning

Luck was with them, or it was in so much as there was a charity drive being hosted at the store that day. They could get their presents wrapped for them for a donation to some organization Erik couldn't have cared less about, save that it meant the question of how the presents would be presented to his 'own' children was answered. As for the matter of the expected donation the organization was somehow involved children so he didn't even mind the money he handed over in exchange for the expertly wrapped gifts. Because it might have been a very long time since he was a child, and even longer than that since his parents had been able to gift him with toys as opposed to food from their own plates to keep him going, but Erik did vaguely remember the thrill of tearing open packages to see what was inside. Did remember absolutely Anya's own love of presents and their wrappings. And he wanted that for his son. Or sons, he should say perhaps, Erik mused to himself as they headed out, provided everyone had their way when it came to this other boy Jack and his relationship with him.

Given that he wasn't at all sure he had it in him to love his own flesh and blood, much less a boy his son thought of as a brother, Erik thoughts were darkly humor over the fact that at least Jack would get something out of this, even if it was just some new toys to play with. That was more than plenty of children got before their parents abandoned them, even if in this case it was to a loving home with other adults who would love and care for him.

Not that Arthur and Jack weren't being spoiled rotten already either. Erik would bet the contents of all his bank accounts on that being the case. He knew how Charles had been raised, after all. And while his friend had lost the picture perfect family he'd been born into after the death of his father, Erik also knew that material wise Charles had never lacked for anything in his entire life. All he'd probably ever had to do was ask and the item in question had been given to him.

Hell, Charles had asked to keep Raven when she'd broken into their house and had gotten his way. That alone made it clear just how spoiled he'd been.

Glancing in the direction of the woman Charles had taken in and insisted on keeping, Erik studied her 'human' disguise before turning his attention to the moderately bus traffic ahead of them, deciding to distract them both with a little conversation. "So how spoiled do you think they'll be already?"

Jolting a little in surprise, she really was still so young in some ways, Erik couldn't help but smirk at her a little.

Scowling back at him for a moment, Mystique very pointedly adjusted the sunglasses she was wearing before answering him in her 'grown up' voice. "I don't think he's as bad as you're imagining he'll be. Knowing Charles he'll be too easy on them to start, guilt over their childhoods thus far and that kind of thing, but then he'll get into a parental groove. His mother was never interested in keeping us in line, and his step father for that matter so long as we didn't do anything that 'embarrassed' him. So at the end of the day when it came to the day to day parenting…he didn't keep himself in line very well, obviously, but Charles didn't have any problem being parent and brother to me."

"And look how you turned out."

The look she sent in his direction made it clear Mystique didn't know if he meant that as a compliment or not, and Erik wasn't about to explain himself either. Especially since he meant it both ways, really.

"And are you planning to be the typical doting aunt?" His own aunt hadn't been much for spoiling, Erik recalled, she'd been pretty strict, actually. Very pious and church going. Not that her God had shown an interest in keeping her out of the oven she'd ended up in.

"We're primarily based in Europe. I won't see them much."

"Currently. Who knows, maybe being around the children and young Hank will change your mind about that. Should we have stopped in Switzerland to get your biological clock looked at, perhaps? They are the best when it comes to clocks, I'm told."

Even with the sunglasses Erik had no doubt Mystique was glaring at him furiously behind the tinted lenses, which naturally improved his own mood, twisted as he was.

And if the glares weren't enough to express her feeling on the matter, Mystique turned on the radio loud enough to make having a conversation difficult. Which of course tempted him to point out that someone was nervous and hating it, but no, he was fine with the radio blaring since Erik didn't really want to talk to her anyway. Needling her had just been a convenient distraction for his own thoughts.

Showing up with his only ally angry at him wouldn't be smart and all, just as asking her about Charles had been a foolish thing to do since Erik well aware that Charles was a touchy topic of conversation for her. Mystique loved her brother, obviously, but at the same time she had an annoyingly childish habit of blaming Charles for things she only had herself to blame for. Not to mention the suffocating guilt he knew she felt for not being there for her brother after he'd been paralyzed, which tended to make her lash out or depressed if mentioned.

A feeling he understood all too well, unfortunately, though in his case it was a familiar burden to him. He had the weight of many people's suffering on his shoulders, knowing he hadn't done enough for them and that nothing he said or did could make up for that.

)

The rest of the drive was carried out in continued silence, the radio still providing the only noise as they drove up to the mansion that held so many memories for the both of them. It looked the same, Erik noted as he reached down to turn off the car's engine, his hand pausing for a moment instinctively when a hint of motion out of the corner of his eye had him turning his attention towards the possible threat. And seeing who it was both his eyebrows rose in surprise as Erik met the gaze of the man standing off to the side, watching him back with a smirk that had Erik's stomach clenching automatically as he remembered well his one brief encounter with the mutant.

"Who's that?"

"Manx. A mutant Charles and I tried to recruit."

"What's his ability?" Eyes flashing a little gold, the tenseness of her body made it clear that Mystique was probably picking up on his own tension and acting accordingly.

"You don't have to worry about him. I just don't like him." Erik pointedly turned the key to shut the car off and then reached for his seatbelt to undo it as he tacked on the fact that Manx was just very feline, knowing Mystique would quickly be able to see what he meant by that as he let himself out of the car, very pointedly holding Manx's gaze again as the other mutant sauntered towards him.

It was the only word for the way he walked really, the other man getting close enough that soon Manx's slitted pupils would become obvious to Mystique, who was coming around the car to stand at his side.

Eyes aside, the long face, angular bone structure, and the pointed ears currently hidden behind his shoulder length black hair gave Manx an elivish sort of look Erik knew most women found very attractive for all the little attention Manx paid them. Not that they were probably sorry for that lack of attention since if the woman in question was at all observant, she'd notice quickly enough the twitching tail hidden under the man's clothing, and the nails that naturally grew into points that would probably become claws if the other man didn't keep them filed down.

"Hello, Handsome. We've been expecting you."

And there was the reason Manx made him uncomfortable as hell. He was unapologetically homosexual, and made zero effort to hide that fact.

When he and Charles had sat down to talk to the younger man Manx had flirted shamelessly with the both of them, completely throwing him off his game while Charles had been his usual charming self, which had just confused him that much more. Manx had eaten up the attention Charles had paid him while obviously being amused at the discomfort Erik hadn't been able to hide, and just when he'd recovered his equilibrium enough to get some of his own back Charles had announced that it was obvious Manx wasn't interested, and that they'd take their leave.

As they'd left the man's house Manx had winked at Charles, telling him that if he was ever looking for a date to come back and see him, and then had closed the door after giving Erik a wink as well.

He'd stood there on the porch, blustering like a complete dolt, and Charles had outright laughed in his face before telling him that he needed to loosen up a little. That homosexuality wasn't catching, and that he should be flattered Manx had found him attractive.

His meant to be nasty response to that had been to tell Charles that he'd obviously spent far too much time having his mind perverted by the British school system.

Charles response had been a very slow, very sex related grin that had seemed to make pretty clear that what Erik had suggested to insult was in fact a very real possibility. That Charles might, for all his obvious appreciation for women and a certain CIA agent in particular, have in the past indulged in certain perverted and illegal acts with his own sex.

He hadn't had the balls to ask, and the question had haunted him for weeks afterwards.

"Someone hasn't changed." Manx's voice broke through Erik's thoughts, the mutant having come to a stop right in front of him while his mind had been elsewhere. "Still the tall, dark, and silent type, aren't you, Erik. And you're Cutie's sister Raven, right? I'm Manx. Part time nanny and cook around here. Nice to meet you."

"You call my brother Cutie?" Eyebrow raised, Mystique shook the hand Manx offered her reflexively.

"As his sister I guess how adorable he is wouldn't be as obvious to you. And he hates Charlie." Grinning in a very cat like manner, Manx dropped Mystique's hand after a moment before turning that smile in Erik's direction again, with a definitely flirty feel behind it. "The boys and Cutie are in the backyard, Handsome. They've been hyped up to the extreme since the heard you were coming. I'll show you where they are and then come back this way to get your stuff inside. Follow me."

A wink in his direction and then Manx was walking off again, revealing the fact that unlike the first and only time Erik had seen him Manx wasn't hiding his tail at all. The trousers he was wearing featured a hole that allowed the man's grey tail, which featured black tabby rings at the end of it, to sway along with its owner's hips.

"I thought a Manx was a cat with no tail?"

Glancing over his shoulder, Manx showed no signed of being annoyed by Mystique's wry comment. "My Papa has a strange sense of humor. Most everyone on my mama's side has the slitted pupils, a family mutation Sweetie finds endlessly fascinating by the way, but I was born with a bump on my back where my tail is now. It wasn't a true tail then, so Papa had the bright idea to call me Manx as a joke. The joke proved to be on him though, since my tail grew as I did during puberty. So yes, I'm now the only Manx with a tail that I know of."

"I'm surprised you changed your mind about coming here." Erik commented, which he really was. Manx had had a very large immediate and extended family who'd been against the idea as well, when they'd tried to recruit some of them. The man's six older brothers had all made it clear that their baby brother was to be left alone if they knew what was good for them.

"Cutie didn't ask me to be used by the CIA this time around. I love looking after all my boys here, and they certainly needed me around." Manx's back was to them, but his voice conveyed his exasperation and amusement.

Mystique asked if Manx lived on the estate.

"I do. And your old rooms are both ready for you. Do you two know how long you're going to be staying for? I need to know for groceries and my own curiosity."

"No."

"Fair enough."

Manx not expressing an opinion on Erik's blunt response, which showed that the man did have some sense of self-preservation after all, they all lapsed into silence for a bit until the caught sight of a familiar figure walking across the rock patio to their left, all of them seeing him stumble and set the tray down hard on a table, which Hank then braced a hand on for support.

"Sweetie!" "Hank!"

Both Manx and Mystique immediately ran towards Hank to make sure that he was okay, Manx proving quickly that while sauntering was his usual way of walking, when he wanted to be he was inhumanely fast. In seconds Manx had reaching the scientist and wrapped an arm around his waist for support as he asked him if he was okay.

"I'm okay. I'm okay. Really. Working too much. Just like you've been telling me."

"So next time you'll listen to me, won't you. And what are you doing with those cookies and tea, hmm?"

"Figured I'd get some fresh air, hang with Charles for a bit while…Raven." Having finally noticed his former girlfriend, Hank stared at her dumbly for several heartbeats before slowly turning his head to look in Erik's direction, greeting him so very formerly and civil.

"Hank."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Her hands moving restlessly, it was obvious Mystique wanted to go over and help Hank, but she also knew that her help might not be wanted and didn't want to risk being rejected in front of all of them. And Manx was in her way regardless, which she didn't like one little bit.

"I'll be fine. I just got lightheaded there for a second. I feel fine now."

"If you could get the tray, Raven, I'll help walk him over to them. Just to be on the safe side so don't argue with me, Sweetie." Manx added that last part with a warning look in Hank's direction that made it clear he was to be obeyed or else.

Amused, especially since Mystique was not happy to be stuck carrying the tray while Manx continued to be close and in Hank's personal space, Erik grinned in amusement and followed after the trio in the direction they'd been heading, not having far to go before his grin faded away as all his attention was drawn to the sound of a familiar laugh that hit him like a punch to the gut.

)

Sitting in a wheelchair that had been situated under a large oak tree, Charles's head was thrown back as his laughter rang out over something that had his face looking young and carefree even from a distance. At Charles's side was an long haired collie, Erik noted, the dog looking in the same direction as Charles was now, the man calling something out that got caught in the wind so that the words were lost, though the wide smile on the man's face made it clear that whatever he'd said, it fit his happy mood.

And following Charles and the dog's line of vision, Erik's eyes landed on two boys, their contrasting hair colors striking blurs as they continued to twirl around and around on the grass, the dark haired one teetering a little as he struggled to keep his balance while the blond appeared to still be going strong.

"I remember doing that with Charles."

He could remember doing that with Frederick. With Anya.

'Hello, Erik'

Closing his eyes, the familiar voice slipping into his mind for the first time in years, Erik thought Charles' name in response, doing his best to keep his mind and thoughts blank.

'I'm glad you came. And I'll stay out of your mind for the rest of your visit starting now. You have my word. Now go see them. They've been waiting for forever to meet you, to hear them tell it.'

Opening his eyes and looking over to see that Charles was looking back at him now, though he no longer felt his friend in his head, Erik took a moment to hold that connection before breaking it, turning his attention back to the children just in time to watch the dark haired boy, Arthur, fall to the ground in a giggling heap while Jack continued to spin around like a top.

The others were all watching him, waiting to see what he would do, and it was that that had Erik slowly but surely placing one foot in front of the other as he made his way down the short slope, watching as Arthur struggled and failed even to sit up while Jack fell to the ground as well when Erik was a few meters away from them.

He was only a few steps away from them when a new voice slipped into his mind, this one childish and hesitant.

'Papa? Is that you?'


End file.
